


Of Seductions, Assumptions, and Questions

by TheReluctantShipper



Series: Pet Wizard [5]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Canon Rewrite, Confused John Marcone, Harry Awkwardly Seducing John, Harry Being a Shit, John Liking It, POV Johnny Marcone, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper
Summary: If asked, I would have said it would have taken much longer to get the wizard into bed.But, as in all things, Harry surprised me.





	Of Seductions, Assumptions, and Questions

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is (obviously) a work of fanfiction. I don't own anything but the original characters. I don't claim ownership over the characters or storyline of The Dresden Files, no matter how grateful I am for them, which is hella.
> 
> \- Thanks to the Sister Husbands, who are my best friends in the whole world, and happen to be gracious enough to also beta most of my works for me. I don't know what I'd do without you girls, but I certainly wouldn't be doing this.
> 
> \- You can come see me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheReluctantSh1?s=09) if me sharing fan edits and bitching about writer's block floats your boat.
> 
> \- I come by any mistakes here honestly, but feel free to point them out so I can correct them.
> 
> \- Feedback is life.
> 
> \- BET Y'ALL THOUGHT I WAS DEAD.

Something changed after the ThreeEye fiasco.

* * *

Contrary to what I’m sure is public opinion, I do not sleep with every attractive person I come across. I imagine it would be tiresome, for one thing, and I quite frankly can’t imagine when I would find the time. Bringing Chicago to heel is a rather full-time job. There is also a staggering amount of people who would do a staggering number of disturbing things to sleep with the Baron. Power attracts and intrigues, I have found, and these people would do almost  _ anything _ to put me as a notch on their bedpost, as it were. It’s rather appalling, actually.

So, while I come across a number of incredibly good-looking, sensual, probably skilled people who would love to spend a night in my bed, I do not indulge all of them. Hell, I don’t even indulge  _ most _ of them.

No, for me to put in the time (and I do mean wining, dining, and actual  _ time), _ a person has to be  _ fascinating. _ They have to ignite the fire deep in my belly, the need to  _ know, _ to  _ understand _ them. The burning desire to discover what makes them tick, how to pull them apart and piece them back together has to drive me forward, drive me to them.

It doesn’t happen often, really. It’s a rare enough occurrence that Nathan comments on it frequently.

And then I met Harry Dresden, hotel front desk clerk and semi-professional wizard.

From the moment he pulled an invisible shield out of thin air to defend a stranger, I’ve been thoroughly ensnared. I want to own him, consume him, find out what ignites him just so I can watch him burn.

To do so, however, would also be to extinguish him, which would be an unacceptable loss for Chicago. So, instead, I’d be quite happy to settle for getting him into my bed.

* * *

After the disaster with Victor Sells and his magical drug, something changed. While Harry was recovering, I spent what was probably an excessive amount of time in his room with him. He was often sleeping, so I took to doing whatever paperwork didn’t require a computer at his bedside. When he would awaken, his eyes would be soft and warm in a way they weren’t otherwise. Almost like he  _ enjoyed _ waking up to the sight of me still so close.

Then, once he was up and walking, there was  _ touching. _ A hand on my shoulder as he rose from a chair, an elbow in my side after he made a stupid joke that I refused to laugh at, or walking close enough that our shoulders brushed together as we made our way down the hall to dinner. Once, even, a giant hand on my knee, where he left it until I managed to drag my incredulous gaze up to his steady brown eyes. He removed it slowly, with intent, before breaking our eye contact.

It was a seduction, and it was well done. Not smooth, no, but I can’t imagine a man as tall (and, quite frankly, a bit gangly) as Harry managing to pull any such thing off smoothly. There was a sort of calm, implacable confidence in him, however. Not confidence in himself, maybe, but confidence in my desire for him, in his ability to draw me in. 

_ Am I that obvious? No, he knows somehow. Magic, perhaps. Was it the soulgaze? Could I have possibly wanted him that soon? _

When I thought about the bolt of heat and awe that went through me when Harry brought that first shield up, the answer seemed laughably obvious to me.

There was something endlessly intriguing about Harry’s sly, quiet assuredness. He knew I wanted him, and I believed he wanted me back. What was he waiting for? Did he want me to make the first move? Was he waiting for an opportune moment to make his own strike?

All of this took a backseat to the task of ridding the world of the remaining ThreeEye and to the continued running of Chicago. I was almost grateful for the distraction, for the normalcy. Wizard or no wizard, my  _ (our) _ city demanded my  _ (our) _ attention. Even if I’d wanted to work at Harry’s side as he found ways to safely dispose of the ThreeEye components (which I very much did, for a multitude of reasons), the daily needs of Chicago didn’t let me. I made do with sending a team of men to secure and monitor the facility where Harry was working.

(And if a certain wizard called and berated me for half an hour about paranoia and heavy-handedness, all the better.)

I had control. Maybe not of Harry, necessarily, but of myself. I had control of Chicago. I had control of the drug trade. I had control of the  _ situation. _

Or so I thought.

* * *

It’s hard to pinpoint when things got out of hand.

Was it when I agreed to meet Harry at his apartment to discuss the final stages of getting rid of ThreeEye?

Perhaps it was when Harry opened the door to what I was under the impression would be a business meeting and the smell of a meal being prepared wafted over me.

Or when we sat down and ate, and conversation moved from ThreeEye to… Not personal matters, per se, but certainly not business.

It’s possible that it was the moment we moved to his couch, me watching with fascination I was barely willing to admit to myself (and certainly unwilling to show) as he talked about magic, his long-fingered, nimble hands moving in the air. His gestures threw wild shadows in the light from the fireplace.

Although, it’s quite likely that the moment Harry, during a beat of comfortable silence, slung one leg over to straddle me, took my face into my hands, and kissed me fiercely, taking me quite by surprise, is when control slipped from my grasp.

* * *

We were on his queen-sized bed (the smallest size that would be comfortable with a man of his proportions, I’m sure), and I was laying wet, open-mouthed kisses along the dip of Harry’s spine as I slipped a third finger into him.

His deep voice rumbled through his chest against my lips when he moaned.  _ “Stars, _ John.”

“Just liked that,” I murmured into his sweat-slicked skin, moving my fingers slowly, giving him time to adjust.

He shoved back against me hard and growled, “Goddammit, I’m not some princess you have to coddle.”

I bit at the base of his spine, just hard enough to make him jump. “I’m quite aware of how unbreakable you are, Harry.”

He glared over his shoulder at me, his shaggy hair plastered down where sweat beaded on the back of his neck and at his temples. His face, flushed with pleasure, was angular and striking in the candlelight.

“Then act like it,” he griped.

Now that I was thinking about it, and since it was the perfect opportunity to goad the man,  _ all _ of Harry was rather striking. Long limbs, long  _ everything, _ of course. Sparse hair on his arms and legs, and a delightful trail of dark hair from his navel to his cock. His chest was slim but compact, lithely muscled like the rest of him. He was littered here and there with scars, a history of his hard-won survival written across his flesh.

It was a heady feeling, all of that power beneath hands. Harry could have tossed me across the room, out the window, through the door. He could have flattened me, set me on fire, made me stop in a hundred different ways.

Instead, he was on all fours for me, stretched long and arched and bucking back against me to keep me three fingers deep.

“Hell’s  _ bells, _ John, if you don’t get a move on, I’ll-”

I cut him off by adjusting the angle of my fingers and spreading them, stretching him open and brushing his prostate simultaneously. His words ended in a strangled gasp. I watched in fascination as a shudder worked its way up his spine.

“You’ll do  _ what?” _ I asked darkly as I stopped being gentle and let my own urgency speed my movements (although I drew the line at causing Harry real pain). “Come now, Harry. Tell me what you’ll do.”

I leaned down to ghost a hot breath over where he was stretched around my fingers, which earned me another moan.

“Or,” I said, keeping my words even and low, “are you bluffing? Are you just going to  _ take,” _ I gave a sharp jab to his prostate, “what I give you?”

I watched with delight as his fingers twisted in the sheets, his knuckles turning white. I savored the way he jolted when I spread my fingers again, relished the broken sound he let out when I traced my tongue along his rim. 

_ “John,” _ he growled. “That all you got?”

I assumed that he was ready if he had it in him to be sarcastic while I had three fingers and my tongue inside of him. I still nipped at his swollen, puffy hole as I pulled away, already reaching for the condom I’d set aside.

While I put it on and smeared more lube onto my own aching cock, I watched hungrily as Harry flipped himself over onto his back. I marvelled at how  _ easy _ it seemed. It was a bit awkward, exciting in the way a new lover always was, but we seemed to move around one another,  _ with _ one another quite naturally. It was surprising, and I made a note to take time to pick it apart and examine it at a later date, but just then I was enraptured by the wizard laid lazily before me, his hand stroking himself casually.

"You gonna come get a piece of this, or are you just gonna keep staring all night?" he asked, as if his own eyes weren't devouring me, too.

I moved closer and gripped one of his absurdly long legs to push it up toward his chest. He went easily, hardly a wince for the stretch. I leaned down to nip at his jaw in censure as I positioned the tip of my cock at his slick entrance.

"Must you be difficult at  _ every _ opportunity?" I growled.

I felt his cheek move against mine when he grinned. "It's good for you to have someone you can't push around." The words were casual, but the breathiness in his voice had satisfaction curling in my chest.

"Hmm, yes." I propped myself on my elbow to watch his face, not strictly handsome, per se, but undeniably unforgettable, as I pushed my way into his tight heat. He was panting now, but his eyes never left mine. Not many people would look me in the eye so directly, but then again, not many people had so few people they  _ could _ look in the eye.

"I can't control  _ you, _ can I?" I murmured, and he shook his head, eyes defiant even as I began fucking him in earnest.

I leaned down to whisper in his ear. "That must mean you want this, doesn't it, Harry?" The hissed question had his back bowing, the change in angle making me growl. "You must be desperate for it, hmm? To let me do this to you, to be on all fours for me, then on your back."

He snarled back, his hands coming up to dig into my shoulders painfully even as his other leg wound around my waist.

_ Damnably long, flexible wizard. _

"Don't get cocky, Marcone," he snapped, leg pulling me closer and deeper and  _ holy fuck. _

The obvious juvenile humor occurred to me, but more pressing matters stole my attention. I’d been using the hand not holding me up to stroke down his ribs, belly, and hip, then back up again. A gentle petting motion to counter the harsh thrusts and barbed words.

Now, I used that hand to take hold of Harry’s chin hard, shaking him a little and forcing him to look at me. I never stopped or slowed the way I was fucking him. His lip drew up into a snarl, but he didn’t fight all that hard to get out of my grasp.

_ So few people, _ I thought, a confusing mix of emotions accompanying the thought,  _ have cared enough to try to control Harry, especially once it proved difficult. _

I was under no illusion that I would be one of the people willing to let Harry go.

“When we are like this,” I said evenly, using the Baron voice that had made lesser men afraid and had only ever made the man beneath me more angry and defiant, “you will  _ not _ call me that.”

He smirked, sweat making his face shine and his eyes burning with  _ something, _ and though it was marred by my fingers digging into his cheeks, it was no less infuriating. He opened his mouth, presumably to be a smartass again, but I used the opportunity to cover his mouth with my own and claim it. He barely took a beat to catch up, and then he was kissing back fiercely. He made me work for his submission, fighting back with teeth and tongue until I’d earned it. Once I had, though, he went pliant beneath me, almost sweet as he relaxed and let me have my way with him. That kind of power, willing and warm, in my hands was precisely what I’d wanted, was exactly as intoxicating as I’d imagined it would be.

I was so wrapped up in the way he was moving beneath me, the way he was giving choked off moans and meeting me thrust for thrust, that Harry’s orgasm surprised me. I released his face to stroke him through it, letting his uninhibited, shuddering moans and the way he clenched around me push me to follow him. I slammed into him one, two more times before delicious pleasure overtook me.

Once the aftershocks left us both sated and still, I gently pulled out and rolled to lay next to him. Our legs were still tangled somehow  _ (damnably long wizard) _ and even stranger was that this, too, was easy. We caught our breath side by side and let the sweat cool except where we were pressed together. The flickering light of the candle cast dancing shadows on the walls, and I found myself inordinately pleased to simply lie next to Harry and watch them.

_ Very odd, _ I thought, entirely without rancor.

Harry shifted next to me, and I shifted in response. Neither of us mentioned that we’d moved infinitesimally closer to one another.

* * *

As Nathan drove me home, after a farewell that was casual in speech and heavily laden with intention and eye contact, I took the scenario I found myself in and began to dissect it.

_ I slept with Harry Dresden. We had dinner, a dinner he made for us (simple, but rather good just the same, served with ales from a local pub). We talked, probably for longer than I’ve had a personal conversation with anyone other than Nathan in years. Then he kissed me. _

_ Did he plan it this way? He doesn’t strike me as someone who plans overmuch, but it wouldn’t do to underestimate him. Let’s presume that he did plan it. Why? Is there an ulterior motive I can’t see? What could he hope to gain? He’s smart enough to know that I don’t indulge in sentimentality. _

_ At least, not on the surface. _

_ But if he’s not out to get something from me, what was the point? _

_ Maybe, _ a voice whispered, a very quiet and often ignored voice,  _ he just wanted to sleep with you. _

I wasn’t certain which possibility perturbed me more.

**Author's Note:**

> \- The jump into bed might seem a little sudden, but I promise all will become clear with time.


End file.
